


Suggestion

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, No Plot/Plotless, Phone Calls & Telephones, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-19 06:43:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2378654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Kasamatsu knows why Kise’s calling -- the blond only ever calls after nine for one reason, and it’s got nothing to do with school or basketball." Kasamatsu knows he shouldn't pick up his phone. He does anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suggestion

Kasamatsu shouldn’t pick up his phone.

He knows that. He has books open in front of him when it starts buzzing against the table, and it’s getting late enough that the temptation of bed is an active force in the back of his mind. It takes effort to stay where he is, to keep his mind on the words on the page in front of him, and he’s only got a half hour or so of attention left in him anyway. He should let the phone ring itself out, let Kise go to voicemail and finish what he’s doing before collapsing into bed. Besides, he knows  _why_  Kise’s calling -- the blond only ever calls after nine for one reason, and it’s got nothing to do with school or basketball.

The problem, of course, is that he knows why Kise’s calling.

“Kise.” It comes out as a sigh, the best defense he can muster for the way his voice tries to swing low and warm on the other boy’s name. Between exasperation and the interference of the phone itself, Kasamatsu is fairly sure the worst of the uncontrolled affection is lost. “What do you want?”

“Senpai.” Kise is making no comparable effort to restrain his voice. It’s warm, purring across the line so Kasamatsu’s cheeks heat just from the suggestion in the tone alone. “What are you doing?”

“I’m studying,” Kasamatsu says, enunciating each word so any residual suggestion has been wiped clear of the sentence before Kise hears it. “Or I was. What do you want?”

“Isn’t it late for studying?”

“Yeah.” Kasamatsu keeps his voice level but he’s reaching to shut the textbook. There’s no point in lying to himself, not when Kise’s not here to see that he’s already capitulated. “That’s why I need to know what you want so I can get back to it.”

There’s a whine of protest, dropping Kise’s voice childish with petulance for a minute. Kasamatsu has to lift a hand to cover his smile, instinct telling him to hide his reaction although there’s no way for Kise to actually see his expression. “You shouldn’t be  _studying_.”

“You’re right,” Kasamatsu admits. He pushes back from his desk, gets to his feet so he can move towards the bed, drop down across it and gaze at the blank white of the ceiling. He’s not seeing the ceiling, though; he doesn’t need Kise in the room with him to picture the blond’s unthinking pout, to imagine the way golden hair falls in artistically tousled waves across his forehead. “I should be asleep.”

“I want to  _talk_  to you, senpai.” Kise is pleading, now, the pout still audible in his voice but the sentence catching high and wanting at the end. Kasamatsu shuts his eyes, gives free reign to the slow burn rising under his skin as he takes a deep breath.

“You want to talk.” That’s flat, monotone with disbelief. “Is that all.” Kise huffs and Kasamatsu keeps talking without giving him a chance to form a reply. “We can talk tomorrow.”

“It’s not the same,” and Kise is sounding desperate, now, his words coming a little faster and a little less thought-out. “Everyone else is there, at school.”

“What do you have to say that you don’t want anyone else to hear?” Kasamatsu pushes. He does a poor job of feigning ignorance -- his words are more a suggestion than they are confusion -- but they do what they are intended to do. Kise’s voice stops, his breathing hitches confused and uncertain; Kasamatsu can almost see the crease in his forehead, the faint downward curve of his lips. The older boy pauses, lets the silence gain weight and substance by its length. Then he speaks, low and soft as if there is anyone to overhear them, because in the end Kise always does better following than leading.

“Were you thinking about me?” The words are innocuous on their own. They wouldn’t carry any meaning at all except for the way Kise’s inhales catch self-conscious on the other end of the line. “Something inappropriate?”

“Senpai --” Kise starts, but he stalls himself out. It’s too early, yet, for him to have picked up the thread of conversation alone.

“Is that a yes?” Kasamatsu prompts. His free hand is sliding under the edge of his t-shirt, pushing the fabric up an inch so he can drag his fingers across his stomach. The movement is idle, it lacks the electrical shock of Kise’s fingertips, but with the sound of the blond breathing it promises something that will be enough, even if it’s not ideal.

There’s the sound of movement from Kise’s end, the rustle of fabric and what is probably sheets; then a sigh, muffled by whatever Kise’s face is pressed against, and a mumbled “Yes.”

“I can’t hear you.” Kasamatsu angles his hand, hooks the edge of his little fingers under the waistband of his shorts while he listens to Kise’s breathing. “What was that?”

“Yes.” That’s louder, more clear. Kise must have rolled over; his voice is fuller, now, not half-caught by the weight of sheets and blankets just in front of his face.

“What were you thinking about?” Kasamatsu prompts. His voice is dropping lower, softer in volume but richer in tone, pulling weight from the heat catching into his blood. He slides his shorts down off his hips one-handed, still keeping his fingers against his leg instead of venturing in further for more. “Tell me, Kise.” The words collect authority from his age, from his position on the team, they have the ring of an order audible even with his carefully low volume, and Kise obeys before self-consciousness can stop his tongue.

“I was thinking about the locker rooms.” It’s not a promising start, or it shouldn’t be, but Kasamatsu’s thoughts jump back a week ago even before Kise continues, “When we were…”

“When I was kissing you,” Kasamatsu fills in. He knows what Kise’s talking about, he can remember the taste of post-practice salt clinging to the blond’s skin when he pressed him against the wall, the way damp sweat let Kise’s fingers slip easy over his skin. He draws his hand sideways, skims his palm over his length so he can feel the flush of heat that draws him harder just from the memory. “I remember.”

“You were shaking.” Kise’s voice is soft, warm with the recollection. Kasamatsu stays quiet, this time, lets the rhythm of his breathing draw words from the other. “I could feel it.”

“I was tired,”Kasamatsu says, but he’s dragging his fingertips up over himself, now, trailing sensation in their wake even if he’s not yet closed his hand into a deliberate grip. “And we were interrupted.”It was a moment after that, when Kise’s hands where just inching up his spine, that the door down the hallway banged open and they jumped apart, recollected themselves into the appearance of acceptable distance. With his eyes shut Kasamatsu can turn his fingers into Kise’s, can recreate the memory behind his eyelids and smooth out the awkward edges of reality into the gentle rhythm of fantasy. “And if we weren’t?”

Kise’s breathing hitches. There’s a pause, the sound of a deliberate inhale; when he sighs it has the tremor under it, the shiver of relief that whispers suggestions about what he’s doing with his free hand. It makes Kasamatsu start to smile, even before the words come.

“I wanted to kneel down in front of you.” Kasamatsu hums in faint appreciation; he’s not even sure the sound makes it through the phone, but Kise keeps talking in any case. “I was thinking about how you were shaking, what you would do if I had started sucking you off.”

Kasamatsu can see it, can feel the tremor of illusory exhaustion hum under his skin, can imagine the gold of Kise’s eyes looking up at him from the fall of his hair. When he tightens his fingers into familiar pressure the satisfaction aligns with his imagination, the slow drag of his fingers turns into the warm wet slide of Kise’s mouth instead.

“Ah.” He sounds considering, appreciative, the vowel pulling long and slow in his throat. “I was thinking about pushing you down to one of the benches, myself.”

There’s a plaintive whimper from the other end of the line, an inhale drawing harsh in the blond’s throat. “I would have needed to hold you on your feet.”

“I’d keep a hand over your mouth,” Kasamatsu offers in counterpoint. “You always forget where we are when I start touching you.”

Kise moans, loud enough to thoroughly prove Kasamatsu’s point even before he takes another inhale, keeps speaking as his voice jumps louder and higher with every word. “I’d be quiet if I were blowing you.”

That makes Kasamatsu laugh, the loudest sound he’s made since he dropped his voice deliberately soft. “I  _would_  like to put your mouth to good use, if you’re trying to be quiet anyway. But I can deal with you one-handed if I had to.”

Kise makes a choking sound, which serves as all the encouragement Kasamatsu needs. “It’s be easy, I’d just hold you down on the bench, sit on those long legs of yours so you hold still while I got your shorts half-off.” His hand is moving faster, now, he’s not sure if he’s seeing Kise on his knees or on his back in his imagination, the two are blending together with the panting inhales on the other end of the line until he can’t pull them apart. “Just enough to close my fingers around you so I could jerk you off, quick before someone found us.”

“I wouldn’t need long,” Kise offers, breathless and desperate, and Kasamatsu’s throat tightens on a laugh.

“I know.” He’s purring, too far gone to feel self-conscious about the resonance in his throat that makes the words a suggestion. “I know what you like, Kise, I know  _exactly_  how to take care of you.”

Kise chokes, his inhale sticking in his throat, and Kasamatsu opens his eyes, so focused on the other end of the line that he forgets to shut out his vision. He  _knows_  that sound, that anxious shiver of breath, and all of his fantasies evaporate until there’s just the sound of Kise’s breathing coming too-fast and irregular into his ear, the present reality of Kise on the verge of orgasm right in this very second.

“Kise,” he says aloud. There’s tension drawing anxious and expectant in his spine, across the tops of his legs, a thrumming harmony to the speeding motion of his hand over himself. “ _Kise_.”

There’s an inhale, deep and fast and shuddering; Kasamatsu’s legs are starting to shake, the tension pulling so tight as to be almost painful with expectation, by the time there’s the leading edge of a moan from Kise’s throat, the start of “Senpai” so drawn-out it is almost a question. It’s only the beginning that Kasamatsu hears; the heat of satisfaction under the sound is enough, gives him permission to relax and let the pleasure collecting into inevitability wash waves of heat out into his limbs.

Kise’s still breathing hard when Kasamatsu takes a slow, deliberate breath, lets his hold go gentle and sighs into the languid relaxation of exhaustion and pleasure combined.

“Kise.” Some of the heat clings to the sound of the other’s name, purrs it into inadvertant affection in Kasamatsu’s mouth. He shuts his eyes, smiles at the sound even before Kise takes a startled breath, says “Yes?” with the high chirp of expectancy under the word.

“You should sleep.” Kasamatsu’s limbs are gaining weight along with relaxation; it’s hard even to turn sideways so he can grab a tissue to wipe himself clean. “Rest is important. And if I stay on the phone any longer I’ll fall asleep before I can hang up.”

“I could stay --” Kise starts, but Kasamatsu cuts him off, though the words are drawn warm around his smile.

“You’re not going to stay awake listening to me fall asleep, Kise.” He can  _hear_  Kise’s pout, he doesn’t even need words to frame the expression in his head. “You should rest.”

“Are you going to study?” Kise asks.

Kasamatsu laughs. “No. You distracted me, I hope you’re happy. I’m just going to sleep, as soon as I hang up with you.”

There’s a pause. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” That’s gentle, softer than Kasamatsu usually lets his voice go. He doesn’t regret that anymore than he regrets giving in to the distraction of Kise’s call. “Goodnight, Kise.”

“Goodnight. Senpai.”

Kasamatsu is still smiling when he hangs up.


End file.
